What Friends Are For
by spoowriterfic
Summary: Post-ep for "I'm Your Boogie Man."  Jane still feels broken, and there's only one person she will allow to see her like that.
1. Chapter 1

**What Friends Are For**, Part 1 of 3

**Pairing**: None, really, though it skirts right up to the edge of Jane/Maura.

**Spoilers**: Up through "I'm Your Boogie Man"

**Warnings**: Some talk of Hoyt and what he did.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Notes**: The look on Jane's face after she kissed Dean just kind of...grabbed onto me and wouldn't let go until I wrote this. I read that look as desperately wanting something – not necessarily Dean – but convinced she couldn't or shouldn't have it. Also, thanks to everyone for their kind reviews of my previous story.

She'd already rung the bell when she realized where she was; she had no conscious memory of deciding to come here, but here she was. Then she glanced at her watch and saw, to her shock, that it was nearly eleven o'clock. Had she been driving around _that_ long?

She ran a hand through her hair, then hunched in her jacket and stuffed her hands in its pockets. With a disgusted breath, she turned to leave, hoping against hope her friend would sleep through the doorbell.

Her luck, of course, wasn't that good.

When the door opened in front of her, she opened her mouth to apologize but found the words frozen in her throat; she shrugged helplessly, then finally muttered, "Sorry it's so late. I didn't realize."

Maura brushed off her concern and waved her inside. "What about your date?"

She ducked her head and shrugged again. "I let him break me."

"Agent Dean?"

"Hoyt."

It was the way the way she said it – quiet, weary, defeated, the way she had sounded when handling the flare she'd found outside her apartment – that made Maura worry. "Jane…."

"Korsak said…I'd only break if I chose to." She shook her head. "Well, I did. I let him get in my damn head and I let him break me."

She sat down on the couch and wrapped her arms around herself. Maura watched her for a moment and then said, "I'll go move your car into the garage."

Jane looked up at that and frowned.

"Just in case."

She smiled just a bit as she handed over the keys. "Startin' to think like a cop."

A few moments later, the slightly acerbic "your leftovers will spoil" drew a reluctant grin, but she remained pensively silent until Maura returned from the kitchen.

"So," she said as she sat on the coffee table facing her friend, "about your date?"

Jane's gaze remained fixed on the floor at her feet for a long moment until, finally, she met Maura's eyes. "My date? I couldn't. I can't."

"Why not?"

She buried her face in her hands, then sighed and stared at the floor. "He'd want to take care of me. I can't even take care of myself. Of Frankie."

Maura edged closer, the way she might have if she sensed Bass was about to burrow into his shell. She tilted her head and regarded her friend seriously for a few moments, weighing her options and trying to puzzle out the real meaning of the statement.

Her eyes caught motion just at the bottom of her field of vision, and she realized that Jane was almost frantically rubbing her palms.

"What's so wrong with that?" she asked. A moment later, she noticed with dismay that Jane had actually rubbed the scar tissue raw. "Why _not_ let him take care of you?"

"Because then I should have _his_ back too. It's like I told Korsak," she said, "how can I have someone's back if I don't even have my own?"

"That's physiologically impossible."

Jane groaned.

"No, really, I – " She paused. Jane's voice was hoarse; she was teetering on the edge and they both knew it. She reached out and took Jane's hands to stop her from hurting herself any further. "You let me guard yours the other night."

"Yeah, after you hypnotized me."

"You agreed before that, and I didn't 'hypnotize' you."

_It was close to two in the morning. She supposed she should feel tired, but the adrenaline still surging through her veins had left her wide awake – though it was, of course, not Jo Friday's fault that she ran in her sleep and had nearly resulted in Maura adding an extra peephole to Jane's door._

_Frost had claimed to be on his way an hour ago, after stopping at the office for more paperwork, but she supposed she shouldn't begrudge him a shower or a coffee or – most likely, an unintentional nap – first._

_She could hear Jane's restless motion in her room and knew that her friend had yet to really fall asleep, but there was little she could do without abandoning her self-imposed guard post on the couch._

_She jumped when she heard the two soft knocks; she stood, feeling the unfamiliar weight of Jane's gun in her right hand as she approached the door and looked through the peephole with butterflies in her stomach._

_Though she took her responsibility very seriously, she had to wonder…._

_Could she do it?_

_Could she shoot someone?_

_Could she take a life?_

"_It's me, Doc," Frost said._

"_Thank goodness," she sighed as she opened the door and carefully handed him Jane's gun._

_He frowned as he took it._

"_I know it's against the rules, but she wouldn't even try to sleep unless I promised to stand watch." He winced, and she shrugged without elaborating. "I'm going to go check on her, now that you've got that. The file's on the coffee table."_

_She stood in the hallway for a moment, conflicted. If she just opened the door, she'd probably terrify Jane, who would object to the characterization, of course – but the pulse point at her neck wouldn't lie._

_If she called out and Jane was asleep, she'd wake her up – which was the last thing her exhausted friend needed._

_If – _

"_Is that Frost?"_

_If Jane was still awake, she'd have heard everything._

_Of course._

_She eased the door open and went to sit on the bed. "Yes."_

"_Okay."_

_The dark circles she'd noticed the morning before were now like hollows dug into her cheekbones. She rested a hand on Jane's knee and squeezed reassuringly. "You should try to get to sleep."_

"_I've _been_ trying. I can't," Jane huffed in frustration._

"_Close your eyes."_

"_Maura – "_

"_Come on." She watched as Jane reluctantly complied. "Take a deep breath. Breathe in for four seconds, hold it for five, exhale for six."_

_Jane's eyes cracked open again. "Maura…." Her exasperation, however, faded into a yawn and then a sigh. "Okay."_

_They went through a few cycles of deep breathing, Maura unobtrusively watching the pulse point at her neck. When the frantic beats finally slowed a little, she said, "Think about the safest place you've ever been."_

_Jane peeked at her once more and shifted in bed, but the restless movement of her hands slowed and her voice was softer as she said, "Okay."_

"_All your friends are there with you. They're standing in a circle around you. They're working together. They're building a wall. The wall will keep you safe."_

_Jane took a deep breath as she eased into true sleep before she could say anything more._

"It was a guided meditation, to help you relax. But…I did have your back. It wasn't so bad, was it?"

Jane's lips twitched despite herself. "Hearing you tell off Korsak and Frost was worth it."

"They woke you up?" She frowned. "I'm sorry."

"No, that's…." She sighed. "You don't understand, do you?"

Maura shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"No, I…I'm glad you don't. No one should. I became a cop so no one would." She ran her hands through her hair. "So I guess better me, if someone's gonna be…."

She fingered the scars on her palms, then began worrying the tips of her fingers. "It would be okay for someone to take care of me if I could take care of them. I can't even take care of myself. I can't even – I can't even face the thought of going home tonight."

Maura stared at her for a long moment. "I've got some great bath salts."

She frowned. "Huh?"

"Go take a bath; relax. I'll make some hot chocolate."

After a long pause, she heaved a sigh. "Okay. Thanks." She stood, then glanced back at her friend. "And thanks for letting me freak out."

"What are friends for?"

Jane's charmed little smile, so unlike her usual wry grin, reassured her that it had been the appropriate response.


	2. Chapter 2

**What Friends Are For**, Part 2 of 3

**Pairing**: None, really, though it skirts right up to the edge of Jane/Maura.

**Spoilers**: Up through "I'm Your Boogie Man"

**Warnings**: Some talk of Hoyt and what he did. Somewhat darker in tone than part 1. One bit of language that I've never actually used in a story before, but there was really no other option at the point it appears in the story, given Jane's emotional state. Hopefully it doesn't seem gratuitous.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Notes**: At one point, Maura refers to the events of the premiere as a year and a half ago – the timing came from "I'm Your Boogie Man," when Jane says that the Sterns, who were murdered 2 years ago from the time of that episode, were killed six months before Hoyt came after her the second time (that is, the premiere). Of course, that means that they stuffed a year and a half of living into 7 episodes, which leaves lots of empty spots to fill in. :-)

When she jerked back to full awareness, it was nearly midnight and the hot chocolate in her hand had cooled into thickened chocolate milk. Maura glanced around, surprised to find her living room empty. "Jane?"

No answer.

Immediately suspicious, she froze and scanned the room carefully. Nothing seemed out of place, but the mug of hot chocolate she'd left on the coffee table still sat untouched on its coaster. She eased to a standing position and surveyed the kitchen.

Nothing.

She crept along the hall, gently nudging open the door to her guest room; maybe Jane had seen her sleeping and had just not wanted to wake her.

No one.

She peeked into her own bedroom, thinking maybe Jane was waiting for her in there.

Empty.

She fought to keep the panic at bay, but was moments away from calling Frost when she noticed the light seeping through the doorframe to her bathroom.

It had been an hour; she couldn't possibly still be in the bathtub?

She tapped on the door and winced when she heard the gasp. "Jane? It's just me."

There was still no answer. She pressed her ear closer to the door and heard, clearly, the sounds of strained breathing. "Jane?"

Finally, she took the bull by the horns and eased open the door, then closed her eyes. "Oh, _Jane_."

She was huddled in the middle of the bathtub, arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees. She was shivering violently and covered in goose bumps.

For a moment, Maura warred with a sense of irrational betrayal.

Didn't Jane trust her enough? Had she really had to hide, here in a cold bathroom, before allowing herself to fall apart?

The answer was simple: of course. She'd spent all of her childhood proving herself as tough as her brothers, despite – or perhaps because of – her mother's efforts to the contrary. She'd spent all of her working life proving herself as tough as the guys she worked with.

When she'd first admitted to being afraid of Hoyt, a year and a half ago now, she'd tried to brush it off with a small, defensive grin – that Maura, even without her research into facial expressions, had seen right through.

They hadn't known each other well enough then to challenge her on it, but things had changed. They had changed, and it fell to her to put the pieces of her best friend back together.

Because she knew Jane. For reasons she still didn't understand, Maura was in the unique position of being the one person she knew of that Jane would allow herself to show vulnerability to.

So it came down to her.

Forcing the clinical side of her brain into some semblance of life, she grabbed her largest, warmest robe and her fluffiest towel and approached the tub.

"I'm going to let the water out," she said, easing her hand first into view and then into the water as the other stroked Jane's arm and unobtrusively took her pulse. Though the water was lukewarm at best, her hands and arms were icy cold.

This was why people – live ones – scared her. She knew one wrong move, one wrong word, might push her over the edge, into the kind of abyss she could hardly even imagine.

Once the water drained, she wrapped the towel around her friend and gently chafed her arms, noting that her racing pulse hadn't slowed. "Jane? Can you stand up for me?"

Her head shook briefly, though it was still buried in her knees.

She kept her voice calm and soothing, even as some small part of her brain was flailing in panic, desperately trying to figure out what to do.

An even smaller part made a mental note to do some research into Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

"It's okay, you know. Whatever it is you're feeling. It's okay."

Another shake of the head.

Maura frowned and draped the robe across her shoulders. "At least dry off. You'll get sick."

The low, dark chuckle was half laugh and half sob, but Jane finally turned her head and rested her cheek on her knees. Her eyes were red and swollen. "I can't. Maura, I can't."

"Then let me help you. Please?"

For a long, long moment, there was no answer. The moment stretched long enough, in fact, that Maura became certain that Jane wouldn't be able to allow herself that vulnerability.

Then, finally, one sharp jerk of the head.

It must have been adrenaline; that was the only thing she could think of that would explain how she hauled Jane's violently shaking body to her feet without landing either of them on the floor. She tied the robe and wrapped the towel around her shoulders so that her still-damp hair wouldn't get the robe wet and chill her further, then led her out of the bathroom to the bed.

She grabbed an extra comforter from the linen closet and wrapped her in that too.

She never stopped shaking.

Maura gave it time, though she suspected physical cold was the least of her worries.

Finally, eyeing her carefully, she said, hoping she understood why Jane was putting up this fierce inner battle to stay in control of herself, "I won't tell anyone if you cry."

She wilted, slowing easing down onto her side, knees pulled up into an almost fetal position.

Still shaking.

In fact, she began to shake harder, so much so that Maura was obliged to grab yet another blanket and wrap it around her. The whole thing was eerily silent save for the clatter of Jane's teeth against each other; in fact, she still wasn't entirely sure she was crying, even yet.

_Thoughts that lie too deep for tears._

Wordsworth, of course. She'd memorized the entire thing while in high school. The written word was just another thing to be in awe of, and Wordsworth was one of her favorites.

The line came to mind now as she watched the fierce battle for control.

It was horrible to watch someone she cared about suffer so; she felt very lost, very frustrated at being able to read Jane so well and yet having absolutely no idea as to what to do about it.

It was an unfortunate and utterly unexpected result of her study of the Facial Action Coding System. She hadn't been at all prepared for the helpless feeling of knowing exactly what someone's body was telling her without knowing the correct response.

She knelt next to the bed and tried to catch her friend's eyes. "Jane?" she finally whispered. "Please…tell me how I can help."

For a moment, she was sure there wouldn't be an answer, that Jane couldn't allow herself that vulnerability, even here between them, until she extracted a shaking hand from the layers of towels and blankets around her and grabbed Maura's wrist.

"Stay." It was a stark, harsh sound.

"No, I – of course I will. Let me just – " Jane's hand tightened. "Nothing. Never mind." She managed to kick off her slippers then climbed up onto the bed, facing her so that she could lie down without losing eye contact.

Jane never let go.

Maura watched her for a while, racking her brain for something – anything – that she could do to help.

_Oh_.

She began to whisper in German, drinking in the familiar words and hoping against hope that they could give Jane the same comfort they'd given her so many times before.

She watched as Jane's brow furrowed and then relaxed, as she somehow soaked in the meaning of the words without really understanding them.

Once Jane's breathing had finally evened out, she risked asking, "What did you mean about your date? About breaking you?"

Her eyes closed and her jaw clenched tight for a moment, but the only audible sign of her distress was a sniff.

Maura sighed. "It's okay. Never mind."

"I don't _want_ to be alone," Jane said, her voice rough.

"Then why – ?"

She snorted. "Because I have a goddamn serial killer after me…_fixated_ on me, Maura!"

"I…."

"You heard him. He wants to kill me, bit by bit, drive me insane until some day he breaks his ass out of prison and comes to finish the job, and I – " She choked on a sob. "How can I ask…_anyone_ to take care of me…to care about me…to be with me…when I'm living on goddamn fucking borrowed time?"

Her whole body went rigid; she heard Jane's molars grinding together as she clenched the muscles in her face with a quiet desperation.

"Hoyt kills couples. Anyone in my life would be living on borrowed time too," she finally whispered.

It took her aback to see the tears welling in Jane's eyes. It occurred to her just then that she'd never seen her friend cry before.

"Cavanaugh was right. I'm a victim."

"Jane…."

"In here." She poked at her chest, then held her hands up, displaying the scars as the first tears began to roll down her cheeks. "These don't matter. It's what he did in _here_."

Again, she poked at her chest. "What could I give someone when it's all…pieces of…broken glass inside?"

Maura frowned, looking at her, searching for the right words. Finally, she whispered, "The privilege of helping you put them back together?"

Jane froze.

"You're hurting, yes." She glanced at the scars, then at Jane's fingers, which were trembling slightly. "But hurting isn't being weak, Jane." She paused. "Remember when you asked me if I'd ever had a best friend before?"

She nodded.

"I didn't. Not the kind that you can rely on. Not the kind that…cares enough to – to help you even when she's getting the…'snot'…scared out of her." Jane smiled slightly at that. "I had…good acquaintances."

The tears were still falling, but she didn't seem to notice. "What does this…?"

Maura smiled slightly. "Do you think any less of me for it?"

Jane looked appalled, which was answer enough, but her barked "What the hell, Maura?" just reinforced it.

"See? I told you my deepest, darkest fear and you didn't run away. You tried to help me. You don't see me differently now. Why can't you believe that people wouldn't do the same for you?"

"Because _my_ deepest, darkest fear could get someone killed."

Maura just looked at her, for a very long moment.

Jane closed her eyes. "Because I _let_ this happen. I _let_ him get in my head. And I would have _let_ him kill me because I was a weak little baby who couldn't make myself move my goddamn hands because it _hurt_ too much."

The shame in her voice was nearly Maura's undoing. "But – "

"It was just a scalpel. And, hell, it couldn't have hurt _more_." She trailed off for a moment, eyes unfocused, hands clenching at the memory. "If I'd been brave enough…I could have faced it. I could have pulled them out."

Maura reached out and grabbed her hands. After a moment of fierce inner debate, she rubbed the pads of her thumbs against the scars under them.

Jane shivered, but made no move to move away.

"The human body has limits," she said, "but I know you. If Korsak hadn't come, if it really became move or die, I think you would have moved."

She glanced at the tiny scar on Jane's neck. "Because you _are_ brave. You would have tried. Whatever it would have cost you. You don't give up, Jane. Ever."

"You didn't see me down there."

"Then tell me about it."

Jane's eyes unfocused again and, for a moment, she wondered if that had been a good idea – but her friend had steadfastly refused anything more than the mandatory three counseling sessions ordered by the department's Risk Management specialists, and it seemed a good idea to help her exorcise her demons, at least a little.

Finally, she managed to meet Maura's eyes for a brief moment, before her gaze drifted away. "He hit me from behind." She shrugged. "It was stupid. I went into that basement alone. No backup."

"Why?"

"I didn't think there was time. And I was right. He was about to…." She closed her eyes. "I woke up. Soon as I did, he tasered me. He – he put my arm out and…."

She shuddered, then finally opened her eyes when she felt Maura again stroking the scars on her hands. "Yeah."

Maura took a breath to speak, but found that she couldn't think of a thing to say.

"It…hurt." She shrugged, aware of the vast understatement, but lacking any other possible description. She doubted even Maura's nearly encyclopedic vocabulary could have adequately described it.

"I screamed." She sniffled. "I – shrieked is probably…if I'd have heard a vic make that noise...I'd've called it a shriek. I was…a sniveling, crying little mess." She closed her eyes. "I begged him to stop. Like a coward. And then he put my other hand out. And I knew what was coming."

"Oh, Jane."

"And, um…it was worse, you know? Because I knew…." She pressed her lips together. "He left me there for a while. Till the taser wore off. He liked the idea that those damn scalpels were the only things…h-holding me down. And…he picked up another scalpel. And I knew I was gonna die."

"Jane…."

"Next thing I knew, Korsak was there…and I heard gunshots."

She took a shuddering breath. "I was crying…begging him not to touch me, not to move me. All I knew was that it _hurt_."

Maura was appalled. She had seen the files, though she hadn't been directly involved in the case.

She had seen the pictures. Had even read Korsak's report.

But this….

She forced her own horror aside, reminding herself that she should be flattered that her friend had told her _any_ of this. That she allowed herself to relive it at all was one thing; that she'd trusted Maura enough to allow her to witness it was another thing entirely.

"Jane. Listen to me." She waited until her friend made eye contact. "He didn't break you. You're not broken. You couldn't have told me that if you were. You couldn't keep doing your job if you were. You couldn't have beaten Hoyt the second time if you were. You're _not_ broken. You're just…bruised."

Jane glanced at her, then down at the several layers of blankets and towels surrounding her, then at Maura, lying skewed across her own bed with her feet dangling off the mattress somewhere near the headboard, with an incredulous look.

Maura followed her glance, then smiled slightly. "First aid."

Jane returned the smile, but then sighed. "I don't know if I can…it feels different this time."

"It's been a day. Give it time. I can sleep on your couch, if you don't want to be alone, and you and Jo are welcome any time. You know that."

"Frankie went to stay at Mom and Pop's. But I…I couldn't face them."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes it is, Maura. _Yes_ it is. It's my fault because that sociopath is focused on me and that makes everyone in my life a target. I shouldn't even be _here_…I should have just gone to a hotel somewhere to freak out."

Appalled, Maura stared at her. "Have you done that before?"

The look on her face was answer enough.

"Jane…you've beaten him three times now."

"Twice."

"What?"

"Twice. Korsak beat him the first time."

Maura acknowledged that with a slight shrug. "Don't let him run your life." She glanced down, then back up. "Besides, I don't think it's fair to make that choice for other people. I, for one, am willing to risk it."

"Three minutes of training with a gun and you're ready to go up against that freak?"

Maura lifted her chin. "If I have to." She smiled, a bit wryly. "But I'd feel better if you'd go with me to a shooting range and give me a few real lessons."

A little silence fell. Maura was glad to see Jane's eyes begin to drift closed. After a few moments, she handed Jane a pillow and grabbed one for herself. Just as she began to drift off, she felt Jane's hand grip her wrist again. "Nightmares," she mumbled.

"I'll be here," Maura promised.


	3. Chapter 3

**What Friends Are For**, Part 3 of 3

**Pairing**: None, really, though it skirts right up to the edge of Jane/Maura.

**Spoilers**: Up through "I'm Your Boogie Man"

**Warnings**: Some talk of Hoyt and what he did.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Notes**: Parasthesia is science-speak for "pins and needles." I had to allow one Maura-ism to slip in. "Letters to a Young Poet" does indeed appear on the soundtrack to the television show _Beauty and the Beast_. I have, indeed, owned said soundtrack since around 1990. I am a romantic, and Ron Perlman's voice is made of win.

* * *

When she woke, it was with a crick in her neck and paresthesia in her feet. Jane's hand was still resting on her wrist, though it was no longer clenched tight enough to bruise, as it had been around four in the morning when Jane's hoarse gasp and a sudden pain had snapped her wide awake.

Maura observed her closely, with both a friend's and a clinician's eyes. Though she looked better, there were still clear signs of both stress and exhaustion.

As she watched, she saw Jane go rigid with tension. She mumbled something that sounded, perhaps, like "don't…please" and then "it hurts."

"Jane," she said, after spending a brief moment weighing the restorative power of REM sleep against the psychological effects of yet another nightmare, "Jane, wake up."

Her eyes snapped wide open, and, for a moment, there was nothing but panic in them. Then she closed her eyes and exhaled a shaky breath before opening them again. "Hi," she said weakly.

"Hi," Maura replied. "Feeling any better today?"

"Um…." Jane shed a few layers of blankets and attempted to sit up. Maura already knew she wasn't a morning person, under the best of circumstances, and was content to wait. "I'm…not dead. I think I slept a while." She glanced at Maura, a little embarrassed. "And I'm not crying. I think those are all good things."

She stood and glanced at Jane and gracefully avoided all three comments. "I think I have some sweats that might fit you."

Jane stared at her. "There are – you have designer sweats?" She watched as Maura rummaged through a drawer and then tossed her a pair of gray sweat pants. She dug out the label and stared. "_Designer_ sweats?"

"Well, I – "

"You can't tell me there's any human ingenuity to admire in _sweat pants_!"

"I – "

"I thought you couldn't lie," she said, though the mischievous twinkle in her eye belied the accusatory tone somewhat.

"I didn't! I said I admire craftsmanship."

"In…sweat pants."

Jane's diabolical grin, an obvious indicator of her rebounding spirit, was well worth the flush she felt heating her face. "Well…."

"I'm gonna take you to Target this weekend," Jane said, "to buy some really grungy, off the rack, store brand clothes." She waved off the look of absolute horror. "I'm not going to let you buy a single thing that costs more than twenty dollars."

"You wouldn't…."

Jane mock glared. "Careful, or it'll be Wal-Mart."

Maura's mouth worked soundlessly.

"Heh."

* * *

"I suppose it's a good thing you keep…borrowing…my softball shirt," Jane said, stepping out of the guest bathroom freshly showered and relatively comfortable in her own shirt and sweatpants that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.

"I made breakfast," Maura said, handing her a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, and sausage.

"You didn't have to do that," she said as she reached for the plate, smiling despite the token protest. "But thank you." Then she froze, frowning. "What the hell?"

"What?"

She pushed Maura's sleeve up, staring at her wrist, which now bore what were clearly finger-shaped bruises, in slowly dawning alarm. "Did I – ?"

Her shoulders slumped at the horrified look on Jane's face. "You were having a nightmare. It wasn't your fault."

To her surprise, tears once again welled in Jane's eyes, only to be brushed away by an impatient hand a moment later. "See?" she said hoarsely.

"See what?"

"This is why! Everyone around me…Hoyt'll destroy everyone and everything around me. You should all just – I should just get the hell away from all of you."

"Jane…."

She stood up and made for the door.

"Jane, it's just a bruise. It's okay. Wait. Please."

She dug her fingers into her hair in frustration, but stopped just shy of the door.

"Really. It's okay. You were having a dream and you were scared. It's okay."

Some of the wild horror faded from her eyes as Maura slowly approached her.

"It's okay," she said one more time, finally getting close enough to reassuringly rub her friend's arm.

Jane stared at her for a long moment, then finally heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry. I never meant to get you caught up in all…this. You or Frankie or anybody. If Hoyt wants to kill me…fine. Either he'll win or I will. I never wanted…."

"I know." She tugged Jane back to the kitchen. "Come on. They gave us all today and tomorrow off."

"Huh?"

"Frost called while you were in the shower. Let's have some breakfast, and then maybe I'll let you take me to…" She made an exaggerated face of distaste. "…Target."

Jane's smile finally reached her eyes. "Okay. Thanks."

For a few moments, things felt almost…normal. She could focus on her breakfast and just let it fade away.

She could put out of her mind the horrors of the last few days, could forget that somewhere out there, Hoyt still lingered, could forget that he had, through the nightmares he'd given her, put those bruises on Maura's wrist, could forget that Frankie had shot his first perp, in her apartment, while saving her life.

And then she moved the wrong way. A bolt of familiar pain shot from her finger, through her palm, up her forearm.

She sighed and tried to put it out of her mind. "So…that…whatever…in German? What was that?"

Maura smiled. "Rilke. _Letters to a Young Poet_."

"You memorize German poems?"

"Most literary works suffer in the translation."

"Can you _speak_ German?"

"Well, English is a Germanic language." Jane rolled her eyes and just waited. "A little," Maura finally admitted.

"So, what was it?"

Her eyes drifted closed. "It's been a long time since I read it in English, but…." She frowned, then began to recite, "'So you must not be frightened if a sadness rises up before you, larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness, like light and cloud shadows, passes over your hands, and over all you do. You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand. It will not let you fall.'"

Jane's lips twitched. "I like that. Did you learn it at school?"

Unaccountably, Maura flushed. "Uh, no."

"Well?"

"_Beauty and the Beast_."

"The movie?"

Maura winced. "The show."

"Is that the one with the lion guy?" Jane frowned and quickly added, "Ma watched it."

"Uh huh." She flushed at the amused look. "I was a teenager. A romantic, I guess. It was…."

"It was a chick flick for TV." After her friend sighed and covered her face with her hand, Jane grinned and relented. "If you tell anyone I even knew what that show was, let alone what it was about, I'll tell everyone you sleep with a nightlight."

Maura rolled her eyes but consented.

"Is there more? Of the poem?"

"Well…yes," Maura said, "but it's largely about how all the bad things in our lives really have hidden beauty, hidden purpose. Rilke calls them 'dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses.' That didn't seem appropriate."

"No," Jane said, suddenly serious. "There's no hidden beauty in Hoyt."

"No."

They ate in comfortable silence, then worked together to wash the dishes.

As she picked up the mugs that still held congealed hot chocolate, Jane glanced at her phone, which had vibrated on the table, and grinned. "Ma invited you to Sunday dinner."

"Really?"

She shrugged. "Frankie told her how you guarded my back the other night. I think she probably wants to adopt you. She's already callin' you family." She frowned, belatedly realizing what she'd said. "You know what I mean. Not adopt-adopt, but…."

"I'd love to."

"Don't be hasty, here…I should warn you – once Ma gets her hooks into you…well, let's just say askin' for stuff won't be a problem. You'll probably get tired of her hovering."

Maura was surprised to feel tears stinging her eyes. "I don't think I'll mind."

Jane didn't say anything aloud, but her tiny, satisfied grin said enough.

"Did you…?"

She shrugged. "I was thinkin' about what you said. My mom drives me crazy…but she might be just what you need. Didn't think it would hurt to ask. Besides…maybe if she's busy mothering you, she'll leave me alone for awhile."

Maura swiped a hand across her eyes, irritated. "I spend all night trying to help _you_, and you turn around and…."

She shrugged. "I never had…much more than 'good acquaintances' either. The girls wrote me off 'cause I ran with the guys, and the guys wrote me off 'cause I was a girl. Now that I got a best friend, I figure I should treat her right."

Maura reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thank you. For everything."

Jane smiled. "What are friends for?"


End file.
